Filling the Emptiness
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: Are Mr. Mack and the Center really what Shawn needs? (a tag to the episode, "Cult Fiction," see author's note, and warning)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.

**A/N:** Based on the episode, "Cult Fiction," – "Shawn joins a cult but re-examines his beliefs when Turner has an accident." Originally aired, April 25th, 1997. This is one of my favorite episodes, and, as I watched it today, this story came into fruition. It is an alternative take on the events of the episode, a, what-could-have-happened to Shawn while he was in the hands of the cult leader. Some of the dialogue is from the episode (not exact wording).

**Warning: **Features some dub con (kissing) between Mr. Mack and Shawn.

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Shawn's always liked girls, since as far back as he can remember. In preschool, it was Becky Adams – a girl with bright, yellow hair always kept in pigtails that he liked to tug on, and an adorable lisp, and dimples to match. In kindergarten, it was Jessica Evans – dark hair that cascaded down her back in shiny ringlets, it felt smooth as silk, and when she smiled at him, his heart seemed to skip a beat.

Every year, all through grade school, it was a different girl. Their smiles, their smell, their hair. He liked everything about them. Girls, he couldn't seem to get enough of them.

It was the same through middle school – kissing Miranda Green, behind the school, during recess had made him weak-kneed.

And, in high school, there were so many girls, and he was interested in more than just one at any given time. Their hair, their breasts, their lips – the entire package – made him horny as hell half the time, and he had a hard time concentrating in class.

But, when Mr. Mack touches him – though it makes his stomach twist and turn and makes him like he's being turned inside out, confusing him – and tells him that he's wanted, that he's loved, Shawn clings to that. Clings to the fact that he finally feels like he belongs, like the emptiness that's inside of him is finally being filled.

The frequent hugs – they'd taken him off-guard at first, but Shawn had quickly grown used to them. Then came the light touches – the nape of his neck, his lower back, his ass. And, finally, the kissing – slow, nothing but lips at first, and then deeper, tongue and teeth, and breathless moans that made Shawn dizzy.

It's all foreign to him, and Shawn isn't sure what to feel. Isn't sure what the fluttering in his stomach when Mr. Mack is touching and kissing him means – does it mean he likes men, or that what's happening is wrong? Shawn doesn't know. Isn't sure he wants to know.

When Mr. Turner wrecks his bike, Shawn feels a little wrecked himself. He knows he can't go to the hospital alone, can't face the one man who has been everything to him – a shelter when he'd had none, a parent when his own had failed to step up to the plate, and his mentor.

He can't face the heaviness of the fact that Mr. Turner might die. So he turns to Mr. Mack, grateful that the man is willing to come to the hospital with him. Ignores the roiling of his stomach and the bile at the back of his throat that accompanies Mr. Mack's more intimate touch, and kiss – the way the man's warm breath on his neck makes him shiver. It's only Mr. Mack's way of comforting him, giving Shawn what he doesn't realize that he needs.

The confrontation between Mr. Feenie, Mr. Matthews and Mr. Mack is more than Shawn can handle, and so he runs. He runs to the only man who has ever called him on his crap, without making him feel like a snot-nosed brat.

Except, Mr. Turner is broken, and so damn pale, lying so still in the hospital bed, the beeping of the heart monitor the only sound that Shawn really takes in, and Shawn can't handle this. He can't handle it. He can't handle any of it. He has to get away. Has to go back to the Center, and Mr. Mack, and…

"You can't leave. I won't let you."

Cory's standing in front of him, blocking the way, making it impossible for him to leave without doing the unthinkable. And then his best friend's arms wrap around him, and Shawn's stomach doesn't twist. He doesn't feel sick. Doesn't feel like he wants to crawl out of his skin.

And then he's alone in the room. Alone with Mr. Turner, and he can't do this. He can't. He can't lose Mr. Turner. Can't lose one of the only people in his life who's never thought any less of him because of where he's come from, the man who's never given up on him when others have.

He can't leave, and he can't stay, not with the ache in his heart, the emptiness that Mr. Mack, and his Center, had been unable to fill. And so he talks.

He talks to Mr. Turner, though he knows that the man probably can't even hear him. Begs the man not to die, and then, before he realizes what's happening, he's talking to God, begging, praying, asking God not to let Mr. Turner die, and then, asking God to do what only God can do – fill the emptiness inside his heart.

It's suddenly clear to him what he has to do, and that what Mr. Mack had been trying to give him – through the Center, through the intimate caresses, and the kissing – was never going to be enough. He shudders when he realizes what might have happened, with Mr. Mack, if he hadn't woken up to the truth in time. If Mr. Turner hadn't almost died. It's enough to steal his breath away, and Shawn knows that he's never going to take Mr. Turner, or any of the people in his life, who really and truly care about him, for granted, ever again.

"I want to come home," Shawn says, ignores the way that his gut clenches when Mr. Mack gives him a piercing look. "If that's okay?"

"Of course."

Those two words release the breath that he's been holding, and Shawn smiles. It's his first real smile in a long time, and it makes his cheeks ache, but when he thinks about leaving the Center, and returning to the Matthews', he feels relieved, and whole.

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Reviews would be greatly appreciated.


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